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#Post#: 162--------------------------------------------------
The Dresden Files: Fanfic: Ghostbreaker part 2 of 2
DIR By: Gallowtree
Date: September 27, 2020, 6:41 pm
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As I looked for the ladder, finding nothing, the wall began to
come apart as gouts of freezing water burst out of it and
started flooding the tunnel. I was knocked flat forward against
the platform ledge by one of the bigger blasts. I thought I was
cold already, but this was beyond cold. I could feel the water
freezing like a frozen sheath over my skin as I struggled
against the cold deluge.
"Flugghhh!" was my only response.
As I looked wildly around for a means of escape, I heard a voice
from above call out.
"Kurz! Where are you?"
"Here! Down in the tunnel! Look out for the ghosts...."
But I realized I was speaking frozen gibberish. Great.
Holt stuck his head over the side, and threw a piece of nylon
rope over to me. I guess he understood frozen German
ectomancer. He was pretty built, like a wrestler across the
chest and arms. He hauled my frozen carcass up to the platform.
There were a few officers pulling people up the stairs out of
the cold. Others were staring around in disbelief at the wall,
the flurries drifting in the air, and the general state of
disruption. Power like that sometimes didn't need a physical
effect to get to you...it was a pressure, a will trying to get
under your skin.
The realm that ghosts inhabit is called the Nevernever, which
exists like a backdrop behind reality. It's a big place, and a
lot of it exists, formless, until something from our side, or
something that can cross over, molds it with a strong enough
will into what they desire. Sometimes it's an unconscious act;
many people, when they dream, or if they're gifted like myself,
tended to forge little habitats in the Nevernever, fiefdoms
formed by memories of home and homeland. For ghosts, it was
usually where they died. From there, they could reach across
and affect our world. I tried not to cross over too often --
there were a lot of really nasty things that thought of meddling
practitioners like me as fair game. The ghosts began to
demonstrate their contempt.
Three of the cops were bowled over by some kinetic force, like
a swipe from a giant backfist. Another screamed as his hand gun
was frozen to his hand by a blast of extreme cold. Holt pulled
out his revolver and seemed to focus intently on a point near
the far stairway. I could feel the air begin to go still.
"Get down!"
I stumbled to my feet, and tried to get myself in between them
and the influence of the ghosts. Damn, I was heroic. The blue
ball of death hurtled towards Holt. I crossed my arms and hope
for the best, calling forth my shield.
"Kurz, what are you--"
I hit the ball of energy like a fly on a windshield.
I was sliding back like before, very conscious that either I was
going to run into Holt, or run out of room and go screaming back
into the water. Then I felt Holt put his shoulder into my back,
and the backward motion stopped.
"With all that weather gear, you never thought to put some
non-slip soles into the equation?" Holt grunted, as we came to a
halt.
"It wouldn't be as stylish. Good for you for thinking ahead."
"What was that?"
"Poor manners," I said, raising my arm into the air, the ring on
my finger blazing in the spectral gloom.
"Licht!" I shouted, pushing back against the cold.
Warm, pulsing light erupted from my hand in a wave, disrupting
the cold. I watched as the flurries were pushed in a clear
solid wall towards the outskirts of the tunnel. Something
screamed not ten feet away, and the form of Jonathan Grant
materialized. His clothes were smoldering, his skin burned,
sloughing off in gobs. It was quite gross. His eyes were fixed
on me.
"You...killed...her..." it said, pointing his finger at me. I
was ready for this trick.
Before the ball of death formed, I crossed the distance between
us and smacked his hand aside. The energy spattered against the
platform wall harmlessly. Now, we were eye to eye. His eyes
were cobalt, wide with rage, and fixed on mine. I could only
return his gaze, and face down the will of a murderous spirit.
"Jonathan Grant, I give you mercy," I spoke through gritted
teeth.
I plunged my fist into his form, embracing the spark of power
that held the ectoplasmic form together. Just as will created
form on the other side, here it allowed ghosts to form coherent
bodies to walk around with. My knuckles were empowered with a
metal that could, if properly imbued with the will, to affect
the spirit behind the ectoplasmic suit; cold iron was one of
those things that had a great power over the supernatural.
Faeries hated it; yes...faeries. For ghosts, it had to be
specially treated and prepared, polarized to counteract certain
polarities. It was all very geeky, as my father would say, but
cool. He was awesome like that.
I could fee the spark explode out from the body...I hated this
part. The spirit howled, and the shell exploded in a mass of
nasty, smelly ectoplasm, covering me in...well...goo. Believe
me, I felt Bill Murray's pain. I wish he could feel mine. The
only way to destroy a spirit for good was to disrupt the energy
that made it whole in the first place. The consequence being
that the energy had to go somewhere. The spark collapsed, the
energy throwing me onto the floor as it bled out. I felt as if
my ribcage had been rammed up into my throat. Holt was on his
arse not too far away, looking around in a daze.
"Holt?"
"Yeah..." he responded, not quite there yet.
"Holt!"
"Yes, what?"
"I'm frozen, a little crushed, and covered in goo. Could you
manage to haul me up?"
"Will do," he said, pushing himself up and coming over to me,
grinning.
This subway, is clean.
I leaned against one of the cruisers, my half-frozen overcoat
wrapped around me like a security blanket. People can laugh all
they want, but I was cold and shivering. Hurt in many places
too. From my vantage point away from the crowd of media,
police, and emergency personnel, I watched as the subway
passengers I got out were being checked over for hypothermia,
frostbite, etc. Some of them were in rough shape from their
ordeal in the tunnel, but it could be worse. They could have
ended up as the Grant's next frozen bit of soul food. I tried
to remind myself that I did the right thing as one of the
paramedics wrapped up the frostbitten toes of a young woman who
had chosen the wrong time to favour vanity over sanity. For a
second, her eyes locked on me, pain written on them like etched
bronze. She turned back to the paramedic; I was grateful for
that mercy. Also being taken to Toronto General was Greg the
paramedic, the “high-ho,” as his partner Shirer had dubbed him,
that probably wouldn't be charging off anywhere to save anyone
for a while. He had been so pale and with a pretty weak pulse
when they got him topside. More victims of a world that none of
these people would ever admit exists, a world full of things
that looked at us the way we look at a restaurant's menu.
Knowing that it did exist was no comfort though – I was small
potatoes compared to most of the wizards out there, and none of
us really had much power over some of the more terrible and
predatory creatures that roamed the Nevernever. To make matters
worse, several of them were already over here, masquerading as
people...but beneath the veneer of humanity was something
different, terrifying, and utterly unstoppable unless you knew
what you were doing. Vampires, ghouls, demons, shades...all of
the undead things you heard about in tall tales when you were a
kid, existed. And they could sit in plain sight without you
knowing a thing. These thoughts made me gloomy, and I pulled my
hood up over my head to insulate me from them. Small comfort.
“There you are,” Holt said, walking out of the crowd towards
me, a thermos in his hand, “I thought you would've fled the
scene by now.”
“Is that coffee?”
“It is,” he replied, unscrewing the lid and pouring some into
it. He then handed it to me.
I took the cup and drank a sip, dismissing the slight burn to my
lips. Good lord, but it was excellent.
“You're my hero Wes,” I said, grinning as my chest began to
thaw.
“Well when you work for the city, there are some perks,” he
said, his mouth twisted a little in disdain.
I lifted one eyebrow and sighed, rolling my eyes.
“She's still here, I take it?”
“Yeah. She's taking statements from the victims that aren’t too
badly off. I think she's either trying to find some way to
arrest you, or suspend me,” he replied, in a bemused tone.
“How rude. This 'saving people' business is starting to sound
like a crock. What's the good news?”
“No good deed goes unpunished, Max. From the rumblings from her
end of things, I think property damage may be in the
offing...Old Mill is, currently, a cross between an ice rink and
a swimming pool.”
“Should bill the Grants,” I replied, sipping at my coffee,
“Anyone but me, really.”
“That’s funny. I had the exact same thought. You’re just lucky
that you can get out of here before Michaels gets done taking
statements.”
I closed my eyes, feeling the warmth flow through me, and
exhaled. Holt cleared his throat, and I opened one eye.
“As in, you should probably take your show on the road,” Holt
said, nodding over his shoulder to where Michaels was still
talking to a small group of witnesses.
“Ah.”
I pulled my coat over my shoulders, damp as it was, and pulled
the collar up over my neck to keep out a small modicum of cold.
I raised my coffee to Holt in salute, and stuck out my other
hand.
“Cheque’s in the mail?”
Holt chuckled and shook his head.
“I’ll drop you off the cash later,” he said, “Now get out of
here before she eats your heart out, ok?”
I snuck off between the cars and the people, snatching up a
paramedic’s ballcap from the bumper of an ambulance, and tucked
my hair up under it as I took off towards Bloor to catch a ride
out of here…
Doing what I do is dangerous, sometimes thankless, but always
interesting. All around us were spirits of the departed that
either hadn’t moved on because they still had business here, or,
worse still, they were lost and wandering, tragically amnesiac
and traumatized by their deaths. If I concentrated, I could see
them, but I could feel them all the same. It was my gift, and
one that I couldn’t take back, even if I wanted to, and no one
could stop me from helping those who were lost…the cops, the
lawyers, the gangs, the mayor herself, even those like me…I am
an ectomancer, and I love this job.
#Post#: 174--------------------------------------------------
Re: The Dresden Files: Fanfic: Ghostbreaker part 2 of 2
DIR By: NamelessMystic
Date: September 28, 2020, 12:39 am
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The Dresden Files. Oh how I love it! I enjoyed the show, too.
Sadly it ended much too soon.
Fanfic is always an interesting read no matter what the basis
is. I enjoyed this 😊
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